Four Loko Letter

Again, I apologize for this dated post.  It's still kind of funny.

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From the Desk of Mr. Elvis Four Loko, Esquire

I formally request to you, the college students of the world and more specifically CUA, to stay as far the hell away from me as physically possible.  I am a simple man from plain roots.  I’m just a guy merely trying to make a living as a niche soft drink.  Albeit a soft drink that has the capacity to induce sweat, heart attacks, courageously inebriated attempts to overthrow local governments, and a litany of just outrageously serious hospital visits.  I just wanted to be sold and treated with an ounce of respect.  I want to be left alone and not abused by university students attempting drunken immortality.

Why do you guys have to get so crazy with me?  I was on track to join the Irish Car, Sake, and Jäger-bombs of lore.  Now, now I’m on track to join nuclear weapons, the KFC Double-Down, and Bratz Dolls; i.e. things not allowed near the public.  I was fine with being just plain bad for the public.  For crying out loud donuts, cigarettes, regular alcohol, and the Tea Party get away with that.  But, no!  You people had to go and get all crazy!

Let me ask you something:  What in the bloody hell did you think would happen when you drank 24 oz. of rhino-grade tranquilizer and enough uppers to make a man Hulk out?  Not only do you actually turn green and get animated bulb arms like Popeye, but you turn into a raving lunatic worthy of the scariest zombie flicks.  You’ve seen your friends and you’ve experienced it yourselves; you become a maniac.  If you were the only one in a small town with access to me the townspeople would have to werewolf you or storm your castle ala the Frankenstein monster.

You know what?  I’ll admit it: I am incredibly and undeniably bad for you.  I am a combustible amphetamine-narcotic mix that conjures in people the notions of anarchy without any of the methodology and the strength of an ox with all of the intelligence.  I just wanted to be enjoyed lightly and occasionally to get people through a night of fun partying.  As of the end of 2010 I’ll be put up on shelves next to mustard gas like some weapon of college-student-genocide, along with whipped cream cans and airplane glue. 

I guess it’s goodbye to all of you, then.  I take full blame for thinking that I was a marketable, safe, and intelligent product.  However, I cannot help thinking that the droves of you (college students, brosephs, bitties, and DJ Kid-Krazzies the like) are not a tad responsible.

Therefore, I say, in closing: Please don’t buy me, call me, text me, or tweet about me ever again, for both our sakes.  And try thinking once in a while.  Or just once.  You’d be really surprised how helpful that small process, regardless of how difficult it can be for many of you, can be.

Loko out!